The Archive

On the ball

ChildBride invited me to a May Ball on Sunday. That is to say, on Sunday 14th June, Emmanuelle College, Cambridge, hosted their May Ball.

And these are the future leaders of our country. Oh dear.

Still, it was an amazing night, held in the ancient and prestigious buildings of Emmanuelle College. The college was founded in the late 1970s by the director of the film of the same name.

Keen to give something back to the nation that had given his movie and its sequels such popularity, he created the college, stipulating that the institute focus on research into the big questions of his time, to wit:

• Moustaches, what is it about them that get the ladies so hot?


• Does the invention of polyester spell the end for natural fabrics? And


• Is it possible to imagine a quiz show in which the main prize is neither a caravan nor speedboat?

In between researching these pressing issues, the college finds time to throw an annual ball (but, being a nerdy Cambridge college, it probably throws a ball like a girl).

There was drink, dancing, comedy, hip hop, dodgems and all sorts of other fun activity.

Oh, and clay pigeon shooting.

Now I know what you’re thinking. Surely shotguns, booze and students do not a happy mix make.

But what if I told you that instead of shotgun shells, they actually used lasers?

Now if you’re anything like me, you’d envision something even more dangerous, featuring Star-Wars style laser blasters and smoking ruins all around.

And, like me, you’d be bang wrong. For when I say ‘laser’, I’m talking about something akin to a laser pointer one might use during a presentation. And when you ‘hit’ the clay (actually plastic. Good Lord, was there no part of this activity not based on deception?) a mousey, crunching noise was emitted by a nearby speaker.

Still, disappointment aside, it was actually fun, and I learned that ChildBride is a dab hand with a shotgun, so best not piss her off by being mean about her ball eh?

Thus a splendid time was had, and I managed to keep my old bones going until 5am or so, which I think is pretty impressive, all things considered.

The next day was spent wandering around Cambridge and attempting to re-enact the discovery of the structure of DNA at The Eagle pub (thus making me probably the only person in the UK who can be looked down on as a massive loser geek by members of the Sealed Knot).

Then, in the evening, I had a gig at a working men’s club in a village just outside Northampton.

God, how proper a comedian am I? A working men’s club.

I have to confess, I was pretty nervous when I first got there to see most of the audience were, to put it politely, getting on a bit.

On the one hand, I wanted them to laugh at my set, but on the other hand, there were one or two who looked like anything more than a hearty chortle might spell the end for them.

Fortunately, most of my material is pretty tame, so unlike most of the other comics who were mentally running through their sets, binning all the swearing, abuse and offensiveness and then realising they only had 2 usable minutes left, I could just get on with it.

And when I got on, I must say, the audience were great, really warm and welcoming.
I think I went down pretty well and I also think I did a bit more than 10 minutes, which was reassuring. In fact, I was feeling pretty grand about the whole thing.

And then the proper comedians went on.

There’s really nothing like watching a true professional to remind you of the standards you should be aiming for. Inspiring stuff.

What’s more, one of the pros was actually once a Teletubby. Honestly.

So now I can, with my hand on my heart, say ‘I played with Tinky Winky in front of a crowd of elderly people, and they all laughed’.

Who wouldn’t be proud of that?

Oh, and did I mention it was a paid gig? That’s right. After petrol costs, I am pretty sure I made about £4.

So who’s laughing now eh?

posted by Peter The Great @ 1:06 PM